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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864815">After you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auviic/pseuds/Auviic'>Auviic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Strangers to Lovers, Unrequited Love, Zombie Apocalypse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:54:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auviic/pseuds/Auviic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years of solitude was nothing compared to the losses Peter had to deal with. He was better off on his own. At least, that's what he strongly believed in. People tended to die in his presence, it became a pattern; If they hadn't died due to the apocalypse-  they died by his mistakes.</p><p>However, this stranger who refused to leave him alone strongly believed that Peter needed a friend. Someone to keep him sane- though his own sanity might've left him years before the apocalypse.</p><p>Will they be able to help themselves, or will their differences result in their end?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker &amp; Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Heads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first Spideypool Fanfiction which I decided to write during these weird corona times. Despite having watched all the spiderman + deadpool movies (I haven't read the comics, unfortunately) I can only hope that I have somehow written their characters somewhat accurate. </p><p>[ Yellow box ]</p><p>[[ White box ]]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been months since he’d seen an un-raided 7-Eleven. His latest efforts to obtain benzine had been in vain; there was not a single drop left. No twinkies left in the isles, no snicker bars, bags of chips or bottles of soda; 7-Eleven’s were officially out of business, and so were his hopes and dreams.</p><p>He kicked against the empty isles out of frustration. He travelled <em>days</em> on less than a few gallons, desperately searching for something to ease his hunger and thirst, only to arrive at yet another empty store. The empty soda cans and candy wrappers spread around the tiles only added to his disappointment.</p><p>Though he’d hoped St. Louis wouldn’t be as empty as the next city over, he was a fool to hope for it. Who wouldn’t raid every single store in the ghetto the moment Dana Bash announced the existence of the first zombie in the world? The Newly Awakened Corpse, or the ‘N.A.C.’ as the government prefers to call them, was first discovered in Detroit.</p><p>Rumor spread fast that they were detained inside area 51 for further investigation and research. Within the same week of Bash’s announcement, alongside the many headlines popping up the daily newspapers, people began hoarding like crazy. Toilet paper, canned food, ridiculous amounts of bottled water and as many meds as they could get their hands on.</p><p>Our dearest president Trump tweeted that there was no reason to panic. The N.A.C, now identified as Jackson Lewis, had simply been infected by an unknown virus which resulted in a coma he had awakened from. According to Trump, Jackson had never been dead. His zombie-like behavior and appearance were to blame on Pneumonia, Anemia and possible injury to the brain. Whether Jackson had been detained inside area 51, one of the other government’s facilities or was simply taken to a hospital, never became clear to the public.</p><p>But who were they kidding? It took seconds to know that Jackson Lewis, aged thirty-four and father of two kids, was found dead inside his apartment with multiple gunshot wounds in his chest. He had failed to repay his debts to the mafia, which ended up in his demise. He was buried in 2002, his name was in every headline for the next couple of days.</p><p>Caroline Lewis had been interviewed right after the identity reveal of the first N.A.C. According to her, it was indeed her ex-husband, which made no sense. She was present at his funeral in Louisville; he had never been in a coma, nor near Detroit. This particular interview made matters worse than they were. They realized the government was hiding information from the public; thus, the most logical thing to do was completely <em>empty </em>the stores and leave the country ASAP.</p><p>It started with Detroit, followed up by Milwaukee and Baltimore. Within a day after Caroline’s interview, an estimated 70% of the population was knocking at the border’s doors to leave their country. Though, due to measurements taken to prevent a possible spread of the unknown virus, nobody was allowed in or out of the USA.</p><p>In less than a week, more cases resembling Jackson’s were announced on the news. Cases in Kansas, Los Angeles and Austin, and eventually New York. Though he expected most cities to respond more sensibly, he was instantly proven otherwise. The citizens followed like sheep, but just like the other 70%, they were not allowed to pass the borders.</p><p>As the majority of the country were scared shitless to end up like Jackson. While depraved of their freedom and possibly without enough supplies to survive the outbreak of the virus; they resorted to other methods in order to obtain some sort of safety.</p><p>Windows were hammered shut, all iron wire was gone within an hour, as well as all firearms, munition and <em>anything</em> considered a weapon; including baseball bats, golf clubs and gardening tools, for some reason. Fetching food became as difficult as surviving a purge movie. Many were threatened on gunpoint to hand over a single can of diced tomatoes, or for less than that.</p><p>Farms were raided of their cattle, gun stores were emptied, the butcher’s assortment was reduced to <em>nothing</em>, and somehow, Walmart and Target were still up and running, despite being unable to control the crowds of people either buying or stealing everything inside.</p><p>It was quite fascinating to see how much could change in such a short span of time. It was even more fascinating to hear the announcement that Jackson Lewis had nearly managed to escape the facility he was previously detained in. According to the Daily Bugle, Jackson had bitten off the face of one of the doctor’s, and continued his cannibalistic streak while staggering towards the exit.</p><p>After the employees called 911 while hiding, the police arrived and managed to shoot him down. Four bullets to the chest, two to his legs and one through his head; which had seemed to do the trick. Before Jackson met his end, he had successfully killed a third of the staff.</p><p>An interview with one of the facility’s employees, Miranda Williams, revealed just how much damage Jackson had caused. Miranda was witness to many of her colleagues bleeding out on the floor, missing several limbs. Their uniforms were torn to pieces and their skin decorated by teeth and scratch marks. Luckily, some had survived.</p><p>After Jackson’s second death, the people began to calm down and returned to their hometowns. Rumors about Jackson’s victims spread like wildfire; they claimed they would follow in Jackson’s footsteps. And unfortunately; the latter were right.</p><p>Not even a day after they had been hospitalized, the few recovering victims were diagnosed as braindead. Their wounds had been treated; they were well on their way to recovery.</p><p>It made no sense.</p><p>And as predicted, the patients behaved exactly like Jackson the moment they opened their eyes. The nurses were caught off guard, and found by the doctors with open wounds on the floor; the patients out of sight. Before the rest of the staff could be informed about the N.A.C.’s roaming the hallways; half of the patients had already made their way onto the streets.</p><p>Once again, the news reporters were having a fieldtrip. Despite being scared to death, they managed to make live recordings of the patients roaming the streets. Videos of the military in the background shooting up the staggering patients popped up all over the internet. The headlines were once more flooded with lines such as ‘upcoming zombie apocalypse in New York city, is this the end?’ and ‘St. Mary’s hospital possible cause of virus outbreak’.</p><p>After that, the citizens of the USA were graced with two more announcements by the president. Everyone was advised to stay inside in order to prevent the virus from spreading. His best-of-the-best researchers were working full-time on discovering the source of Jackson and the patient’s behavior, and they would provide a cure. No need to panic.</p><p>Ironically, one of the researchers working on the project had been infected by the same virus the moment one of the detained N.A.C.’s managed to scratch him. Needless to say, it took less than a day to get the ball rolling. Two victims became four, four became eight, eight became sixteen- until the military arrived and ended the streak.</p><p>You’d think they’d have extra measurements after what happened in the hospital, and inside of their own facilities; but you’d be wrong.</p><p>Today, exactly 4 years after the discovery of Jackson, the world has adapted to the reality that nearly 2/3rds of the population had either been infected, or killed by an N.A.C., which they rather referred to as zombies. Cause they technically <em>were</em>.</p><p>“No- no, <em>not</em> right now,” Peter groaned dramatically. He raised his revolver, a humble .357 Magnum, and shot the woman staggering towards him straight through her head. Her insides painted a pretty painting on the wall behind her, though he had no time to appreciate the art. The sound of his gun and smell of blood meant more unwelcome fellows with an appetite.</p><p>“4 more rounds,” he sighed. He rummaged through his pockets, hoping to find more munition, but lady luck wasn’t in his favor. He had a bunch of pennies, a candy wrapper and the key to his car; no happy surprises, unfortunately.</p><p>After putting the safety back on his revolver, he put it back in his holster and scanned the area. Despite the 7-Eleven being as empty as his jar of hopes and dreams, he still had a sliver of faith left that St. Louis wasn’t <em>completely</em> empty.</p><p>And there, in the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something all too familiar. Inside the corner store across the street, through the broken glass, barely visible, on the top shelf behind the counter; a single can of corn. It glistered in the sunlight, as if presented on a golden platter by the gods. From Peter’s point of view, it seemed to be unopened; and thus, worth the risk of waltzing through the hoard just outside the store.</p><p>An estimated amount of fourteen obstacles were in-between him and his goal. He had 4 bullets and a functioning brain to figure out how to get inside the store without A. Accidentally cornering himself with on means to escape, and B. to not get eaten in the process.</p><p>Despite the earlier gunshot, they hadn’t moved an inch from their spot; as if focused on something. Their attention wasn’t on the corner store, which was quite fortunate. He might be able to sneak into the store, grab the can and leave through the backdoor unnoticed.</p><p>Worst case scenario; he’d become dinner and wouldn’t have to worry about surviving during an apocalypse. Though, this outcome was not preferable.</p><p>He stealthily moved from one hiding spot to the next, all the way to the front door. The door opened with the slightest creaking sound, not enough to catch their attention. He sighed in relief and made his way inside. He tiptoed around the broken glass and climbed onto the counter, glancing just over the shelves to see if there were any unwanted visitors in the back of the store.</p><p>Besides the many corpses rotting away, there didn’t seem to be anything suspicious moving around. Thus, he reached for the can of corn, <em>slightly</em> out of his reach. He stood on the tip of his toes, careful not to fall off the counter and crash into the shelves. His fingers touched the front of the can; he was <em>almost</em> there.</p><p>Until a loud clattering noise from outside scared the living hell out of him.</p><p>“Fuck!” he shouted, barely managing to keep himself upright as he nearly stumbled forward from shock. He clasped a hand over his mouth immediately and shifted his attention to the entrance.</p><p>They heard him. They <em>heard</em> him.</p><p>Countless of zombies were struggling to simultaneously enter the building. Some dragged their bodies over the windowsill, while others pushed against each other in order to get through the entrance. The large pieces of glass still inside the window frame tore their skin till it bled profusely, though it didn’t stop them in their tracks.</p><p>Peter ran to the back of the store, fiddling with the lock on the backdoor. He took out a paperclip from his back pocket and began prodding inside. His fingers were trembling as he heard the sound of bodies hitting the floor; which meant few had finally managed to get inside.</p><p>No matter how long he fiddled with the lock; the clicking sound of success hadn’t reached his ears yet. Instead, he heard the zombie’s footsteps inching closer by the second.</p><p>“Come on,” he begged while his other hand unlocked the safety lock on his revolver. Though, he didn’t give up on his quest to unlock the door between him and his way out. Only when he could feel almost feel the zombie breathing down his neck did he spin around, his gun up in the air, ready to shoot.</p><p>He didn’t expect to lock eyes with a zombie, a katana sticking out through its chest, or the <em>breathing</em> man behind it holding said katana</p><p>“You’re not a zombie,” the man said, stabbing a knife through the zombie’s head as he simultaneously pulled the katana out of its body. As the body collapsed, the man kicked it aside and bowed in an ungracious manner.</p><p>“Pleased to meet you, Wade Wilson is the name-“</p><p>“Not interested,” Peter said, cutting him off. He shoved the man aside and stepped over the trail of dismembered bodies. With each step he took, a sickening ‘squelch’ resonated throughout the store. No doubt it was the handiwork of the man behind him.</p><p>“Not <em>interested</em>?” Wade gasped dramatically, offended by Peter’s rejection. “I saved your life, and your ungrateful, but might I add <em>perfectly</em> shaped buttocks, <em>dares</em> to deny me my introduction?”</p><p>“That’s right,” Peter replied, successfully snatching the can of corn from the shelves and making his way outside the door. The dozens of zombies roaming the streets were no longer there, instead, there were puddles of blood and severed heads. Though he didn’t want to admit it, Wade had taken care of his biggest issue in a matter of <em>minutes</em>.</p><p>[ He could be infected, <em>kill</em> him. ]</p><p>“<em>No, no, no</em>,” Wade murmured while following Peter, who paid no attention.</p><p>[[ He could become a valuable companion, how many survivors have you met so far? ]]</p><p>“<em>Zero</em>,” Wade sighed.</p><p>“Zero what?” Peter asked, finally turning around. He caught Wade off guard, who stumbled right into Peter.</p><p>“Zero willpower to <em>not</em> kneed that ass like freshly made dough,” Wade smiled. Peter flipped him the bird and turned around once more, regretting his decision to try and converse with his newly acquired stalker who seemed to have a knack for severing limbs.</p><p>“C’mon snugglekins, don’t give me that look,” Wade pouted.</p><p>“Alright,” Peter sighed. “Thank you for saving me, but I was perfectly fine on my own.”</p><p>“Were you <em>trying</em> to become their dinner? Because in that case, you were doing <em>great</em>.”</p><p>Peter knew his lack of appreciation was beyond rude, but he learned the hard way to not get attached to anyone; including the man who literally saved his life. Friendships were unmaintainable considering most of them die the same week. Not everyone was as capable as Peter to survive throughout the entire four years of zombie-misery.</p><p>“I gave you my thanks, now will you <em>please</em> leave me be?”  </p><p>[ He’s playing hard to get! Go get ‘m tiger! ]</p><p>[[ Or he’s sincerely begging us to lay-off on the stalking. ]]</p><p>“Shut up, I’m trying to have a conversation,” Wade groaned, wishing he could slap the voices into reality so he could tear them to pieces. He didn’t want the kid to think he was insane.</p><p>[ But you are! ]</p><p>“You’re telling <em>me</em> to shut up?”</p><p>“No, not <em>you</em>. <em>Them</em>.”</p><p>[[ Great way to make him believe you aren’t insane, Wade. ]]</p><p>“Look, I’ve been alone on the road for as long as I can remember, I’m going to lose my marbles if I have to spent another second conversing with a severed head in the backseat of my Corola. Justin Bieber’s head might be pretty to look at, but the very persistent ‘baby, baby, baby ooh’ refrain repeatedly echoing in my head is <em>killing</em> me.”</p><p>Somehow, magically, it caused the tiniest crack in Peter’s bad-boy façade.</p><p>“You liked that, huh?” Wade snickered. “I can show you my collection! My most prized possessions are Mike Pence’s, Michael Cera’s, Robert Pattison’s and Ryan Reynold’s heads.”</p><p>[ Why show him heads when you can give him <em>head</em>? ]</p><p>“You’re joking, right?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Trigger happy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Two new characters have arrived! Though I don't think you'd be able to guess the second side-character (I didn't even know they existed in the first place- oh well).</p><p>[ Yellow ]</p><p>[[ White ]]</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Peter less than a minute to realize hesitantly inviting Wade into his truck was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. The guy wouldn’t shut up about his life back in San Francisco. In less than an hour, he learned Wade’s entire background story.</p><p>Wade made a living out of his 3 jobs at Taco Bell, Chili’s and Taco Casa. Needless to say, he got fired from all his jobs because he dutifully broke the ‘no eating during workhours’ rule every single day. His only defense was: “How can I <em>not</em> eat while those enchiladas are teasing me like that?”</p><p>His breakfast included ridiculous amounts of Burritos, pulled-pork Chalupas, chicken Fajitas and Gorditas. His lunch; Tamales, Tortillas and Tostadas. Two sides of Guacamole, and the largest bowl of Caldo de Res, finished by Champurrado and Churros. And for dinner? Blind Al’s gruesome dishes.</p><p>Peter wondered how Wade could survive without his Mexican cuisine.</p><p>He also learned about Wade’s streak of hookups with a guy named Weasel, a bar owner who made his life somewhat tolerable. He bragged on about his greatest one-night stand with a Hugh Jackman lookalike, and a woman he swore was Scarlett Johansson- though it was most unlikely.</p><p>Before he could continue his detailed description about his threesome with Chris Hemsworth and Brad Pitt, Peter turned up the car radio up to full-volume. He’d rather die than hear another story related to Wade’s sex life.</p><p>Twenty One Pilot’s ‘Fake you out’ blasted over Wade’s endless rambling, though that didn’t stop him from trying to rise above Tyler Joseph’s screaming throughout the refrain.</p><p>[ He’s singing about us! Or the zombies- or both! What’s the difference anyways? ]</p><p>“Our brains are sick but that’s okay,” Wade hums quietly, “Is this what you usually listen to? The lyrics are quite ironic, given our current predicament.”</p><p>[[ Have you even been <em>listening</em> to the song? ]]</p><p>“From time to time. My music taste has a large range; from Bach to Kanye West,” Peter replies, with a kinder tone than Wade could’ve hoped for. So far, the only words out of Peter’s lips were either snarky remarks or telling him to shut up. It was a nice change of pace, “What about you?”</p><p>[ Kesha! Beyoncé! Rihanna- or no, wait, <em>Lady Gaga</em>. ]</p><p>[[ Don’t be absurd. We <em>love</em> Celine Dion and Cher only. ]]</p><p>“Spice girls, without a doubt.”</p><p>“<em>Spice girls</em>, really?” Peter laughed while opening the compartment box to reveal Spice Girl’s CD ‘Wannabe’ in near-perfect condition. Wade squealed in delight at the sight.</p><p>“May I?” he asked, reaching out for the CD. The second he got his hands on it, he inserted the CD into the car radio. As Wannabe’s intro started playing, Wade leaned back into his seat and revelled in nostalgia.</p><p>His mental trip back to the 90’s was short lived when Peter suddenly hit the brakes. Wade’s face collided with the front window, causing his nose to make a concerning cracking sound. Peter hit the pause button and released his revolver from its holster.</p><p>[ This is it; this is where he finally kills us! The end is neigh; I can almost <em>taste</em> the sweet relief of death! ]</p><p>[[ Don’t be absurd, look outside the vehicle. ]]</p><p>“Sweet mother of Chalupas,” Wade gasped. There were <em>thousands</em> of bodies stacked in front of the truck, creating the biggest, <em>nastiest</em> obstacle he ever came across. The one thing that wasn’t completely covered in blood was a ‘Welcome to Springfield!’ sign, and just beneath it hung a manmade sign that read ‘enter on own risk’. Whether is was a threat or a warning was difficult to tell.</p><p>Peter swung his door open and hopped out, instantly searching the place for any un-living beings. Wade had no time to tell him that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to waltz through a blood bath with nothing but a few bullets to protect himself.</p><p>Luckily for him, Wade was well equipped with everything they’d need to survive an apocalypse. He followed suit, two katanas on his back, a machete resting in its holster and his beloved AK-12 assault rifle in hands. He gave it a little kiss before checking the magazine. Much to his surprise, it wasn’t completely empty. And even if it was, he had enough bullets left to take out half the population of Cape Verde.</p><p>“Most of my companions lasted a month before they’d either kill themselves or end of up as supper; could we <em>please</em> set a new record?” Wade begged, kicking aside the bodies while jogging after Peter, who’s attitude had reverted back to the bad-boy façade.</p><p>Within a few days, Wade realized there were three kinds of Peters. Just how there were three kinds of Wades- though Peter was better off not knowing about them.</p><p>[[ Thanks, jerk. ]]</p><p>There was this bad-boy-Peter; completely focused on the task at hand and oddly resistant to Wade’s puns and flirting. Wade had tried to crack a smile out of him- or any other emotion for that matter; he was better off waiting for Peter to go back to his senses rather than force him out of that weird trance of his.</p><p>Then there was Jolly-Peter, this one he liked most. Jolly-Peter laughed at his jokes, sometimes cracked one on his own, and actually replied with a blush or curse when Wade couldn’t resists groping his bum.</p><p>And then there was <em>sexy</em>-Peter. Sexy-Peter would sneak out at night with Wade’s machete, going on a killing spree to let out any frustration and anger build up in that pretty head of his. Every time Peter went out, Wade would stare through the tiny window in the backseat, watching sexy-Peter’s every move while swinging the blade without any grace whatsoever- but that only made it more stupidly <em>adorable</em>.</p><p>Needless to say, he pitched a tent higher than mount Everest every time sexy-Peter popped up.</p><p><em>This</em> Peter, however, was definitely bad-boy-Peter. No matter how many times he called for him, Peter didn’t spare him a single glance. He was too busy roaming around the place, searching for possible booby-traps or zombies.</p><p>It took Wade one glance around town to spot at least 7 traps, including the one <em>right</em> in front of Peter. He grabbed him by his collar and jerked him backwards- just in time to dodge the 45lbs rock landing in front of him.</p><p>“You okay, sugarplum?” Wade asked him, carefully turning Peter’s shaking body to face him. Peter’s expression matched one of a man who had met death- which would’ve been the case if it weren’t for him.</p><p>“I think so,” Peter replied, glancing back at the rock which could’ve landed him into a coma- or death. He was not only surprised by the fact he escaped death- but surprised he somehow oversaw that trap. His uncle taught him to spot traps from miles away; how could he have missed this one?</p><p>“You should head back to the truck, I’ll deactivate any trap so you can continue your cute investigation uninterrupted,” Wade promised, and shoved Peter in the right direction. Surprisingly, Peter didn’t complain and complied like a good boy.</p><p>[ He’s so docile- like a <em>puppy</em>. Can we keep him? Can we keep him? Pretty please? ]</p><p>[[ A puppy that <em>bites</em>, mind you. ]]</p><p>“Remember what happened to our past pets?” Wade cringed thinking about Sir Puff the 4<sup>th</sup>. The backstreets of Tenderloin were no place for animals the size of a teacup. He had to dig yet another grave an hour after getting last pup; the poor animal chose the wrong ally to poop.</p><p>Wade realized that every pet was doomed to meet an untasteful end as long as they were <em>his</em> pets. He also realized that San Francisco’s stray dogs resembled ferocious wolves more than anything- but that wasn’t the reason they kept on fucking dying.</p><p>Sir Puff the 1<sup>st</sup> died by drowning in lake Anza while Wade tried to hook-up with the lifeguard. Though he was successful- he gained a fuckbuddy but lost his newest friend. Lady Puff- his second pup, which he <em>assumed</em> was a lady, escaped from his house and was instantly run over by a car. Puff the 3<sup>rd</sup> was poisoned while eating something off the streets.</p><p>Only after Sir Puff the 4<sup>th</sup> did he decide a dog wasn’t for him; thus, he settled for a hamster. It died the same day- or was it hibernating?</p><p>[ The fifth time's the charm, amiright? ]</p><p>[[ Unless Peter is surprisingly into pet-play, I suggest laying off on the idea. ]]</p><p>“I’d have so much fun training <em>him</em>,” Wade swooned, taking another glance behind him to appreciate Peter’s firm ass, slowly disappearing back into the truck. The moment Peter was safely inside, Wade pulled the machete from it's holster and began digging through the corpses.</p><p>To his surprise, he found several cartridge traps, different tripwires and a very creative punji-stick hole. Instead of bamboo stakes, several knives were lodged inside the dirt at the bottom of the pit; a pit extending from the welcome sign all the way to the stores at least an acre from where he stood.</p><p>Someone had been busy protecting their neighbourhood; which meant the possibility of meeting more survivors. Though, Wade doubted they’d be <em>friendly</em>. The warning sign had to be a threat- the traps in front of the punji-stick hole had to warnings not to come closer. His suspicions were confirmed as he saw several bodies holding a white cloth- undoubtedly approaching them with nothing but peace in mind. Their bodies were covered in nothing but bullet holes- they hadn’t even been infected.</p><p>[ <em>Dodge</em>! ]</p><p>And he did; just in time to feel a slight breeze on the right side of his head. A bullet flung by, barely missing him. It was a warning shot.</p><p>“Fuck,” Wade growled, putting the machete back where it came from and instead made his rifle fire-ready. He shot through the windows of a boutique store on his right, and heard a pained gasp seconds later. Wade instantly made his way over the store and grabbed the guy by his throat, lifting him up and slamming him against the counter behind him.</p><p>The guy’s face was covered by a gasmask, his blood-stained Spiderman hoodie was pulled up over his head and his hands were hidden by gardening gloves. He gasped for air as Wade’s grip tightened on the shooter, who dropped his gun as he rapidly reached the verge of suffocation.</p><p>“Are you alone?” Wade asked him, loosing his grip enough for the man to speak comfortably. His fingers were all over Wade’s hands, trying to flee from his hold. Wade didn’t budge. “I asked you, <em>are you alone</em>?”</p><p>“Yes!” he coughed; his voice hoarse. His ‘yes’ was pitched too high for an adult, which made Wade loosen his grip some more. He pulled the man’s mask off, only to reveal a teenager’s face. The man turned out to be a kid with incredible aim, and booby trap skills to match. If the kid hadn’t been aiming for Wade’s brain minutes earlier, he might’ve even said he was impressed.</p><p>Wade sighed and let go of the kid. He reached for his bag and pulled out a flask of rubbing alcohol and some unused bandages. He lifted the kid’s hand which was pressing onto the bleeding gun wound on his leg, and poured some of the flask’s contents onto it.</p><p>“Fuck!” the kid screamed; of course, it’d hurt like a bitch. But he’d have to bite his lips and toughen up if he didn’t want to die from an infected bullet wound, especially after he made it this far on his own- assuming he was speaking the truth.</p><p>Though, Wade knew that people on the verge of death tended to speak the truth. And even if the kid had lied, he’d be able to bring down anyone else trying to kill either him or Peter.</p><p>After the wound received enough torture from Wade, he wrapped the bandage around it and gave it a little ‘get better soon’ kiss on top. He received a weird look in return, but wasn’t too bothered by it.</p><p>“Name?” he asked, putting his supplies back in his bag.</p><p>“Eugene- but everyone calls me Flash,” Flash said, nearly choking on his own words.</p><p>[ Can we have a cool nickname too? What about Speedy, or Spikey? Or <em>Spidey</em>? ]</p><p>[[ I believe the 3<sup>rd</sup> one is copyrighted. ]]</p><p>“Everyone,” Wade laughed. “Everyone’s <em>dead </em>kid. I’ll ask you again; name?”</p><p>“Flash Thompson,” Flash gulped nervously.</p><p>[ This kid’s gonna pee his pants! ]</p><p>“How’d you survive on your own this long?” Wade asked, genuinely curious. There had to be some kind of secret behind the kid’s survival. Perhaps his parents died recently; leaving the frightened chick to fend on its own.</p><p>“My father was a police officer, he taught me some tricks,” Flash confessed. “He died way before the apocalypse; drank himself to death.”</p><p>[[ Way to go, Wade. ]]</p><p>“My mother died a year after the begin of the apocalypse, she killed herself. My sister..” Flash didn’t finish his sentence. Wade felt his curiosity waver as Flash unloaded his emotional trauma onto him.</p><p>“I get it, dead parents, dead sister, dead puppy and rabbit, <em>yada-yada</em>,” Wade rambled, directing their conversation to a different path. “My question was, how did you <em>survive</em>.”</p><p>Flash held up his pistol and a tiny ‘how to survive the wild’ guide. Wade nearly facepalmed himself into another plane of existence. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he gasped, pointing at the withered little guide the size of his palm. There were an estimated 20 pages inside the book, enough to maybe learn how to build a campfire and set up a basic trap.</p><p>“If this has been your guide to survive the apocalypse so far, who set up those traps out there?”</p><p>“That’d be <em>me</em>,” a whole ‘nother voice pitched in. Literally <em>pitch</em>-ed; this was <em>not</em> a man’s voice. Wade spun around and was welcomed by a gun barrel pressed against the tip of his nose.</p><p>“Ho, mama, careful with that thing,” Wade gasped dramatically. “Gun’s <em>kill</em>.”</p><p>[ Is it weird to find this absolutely <em>thrilling</em>? ]</p><p>“Jesse!” Flash shouted, seemingly excited and absolutely livid at the same time. He jumped into, presumably his sister’s, arms. Wade instantly reached for Flash’s unguarded pistol and switched the roles around in a matter of seconds. He knocked Jesse’s gun out of her hands, and pinned her against the wall with the pistol’s barrel against her temple.</p><p>“In any other circumstance, I’d find this scenario pornographically <em>hot. </em>However, strangers threatening my life is surprisingly <em>not</em> on my kink list.”</p><p>[ Shoot her! Shoot her! ]</p><p>[[ Or show some mercy considering Peter might be watching. ]]</p><p>“Right,” Wade sighed, debating whether he should get rid of the nuisances in front of him, or show ol’ Petey he <em>isn’t</em> the murderous stalker Peter might believe he is.</p><p>Though he was leaning toward the latter, he found his finger comfortably resting on the trigger.</p><p>“Wade?” Peter’s familiar voice startled him out of his inner debate, resulting in his finger pulling the trigger.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After a few months,  I have returned. Let me feed you terrible references and petnames.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There’s a lack of blood,” Wade stated absentmindedly. He was quite certain that after you shot someone, there should be shrilling shrieks destroying your eardrums, alongside a beautiful portrait of splattered blood and brains, accompanied by a rush of excitement.</p><p>However, Wade found himself staring at the sight of Flash and Jesse running off. And quite frankly, he didn’t feel the urge to chase after them.</p><p>[ Get them! <em>Feel the thrill of the hunt</em>. ]</p><p>[[ Perhaps we should check on our companion instead? ]]</p><p>“Petey! Don’t startle me like that, someone might’ve gotten hurt,” Wade smiled, though he found it hard to keep a smiling face as Peter was glaring daggers at him.</p><p>“You just scared off two of the last survivors on earth,” Peter stated. “They could’ve helps us survive! I’ve been out of food for <em>days</em>.”</p><p>“If it’s food you want, I’ve got a sausage to munch on,” Wade winked, which earned him a well-deserved punch in the guts. For a guy with a perfect twink body, Peter’s fist hurt more than Wade liked to admit.</p><p>“You know what, I’m not doing this.”</p><p>Before Wade could decipher what Peter meant, the boy turned around and graciously flipped him off. Of course, that wouldn’t deter Wade’s motivation to make lil’ Petey his best friend. He followed suit—or tried to, until he took a step and fell face first into the mud. There was a sharp pain in his leg, and a very familiar scent, a scent he’d been craving seconds before. Though, he didn’t expect the scent to come from <em>him</em>.</p><p>[[ This explains their courage to run off like that. ]]</p><p>He reached for Flash’s pistol and noticed the empty magazine and lack of gunpowder. Flash’s pistol was empty; Jesse’s was <em>not</em>. The realization settled in; the little fucker used his sister’s gun to shoot him.</p><p>He instantly regretted not going after them. Though, he couldn’t even if he wanted to.</p><p>[ The power of adrenaline! ]</p><p>“Peter!” Wade shouted, loud enough to attract dozens of unwanted visitors. He knew for a fact that this would get the boy to turn around, return, probably hit him in the face for threatening the ‘last survivors on earth’, and bring him to safety because Petey is a goody two shoes.</p><p>And as he expected, Peter stopped dead in his tracks.</p><p>“That’s right Babyboy, come back and save dear ol’ Wade,” Wade smiled, patiently waiting for his saviour. Though, said saviour had stopped in front of Wade’s car. With no intention of turning around, he swung open the door and made himself at home.</p><p>[[ Wait, what is he doing? ]]</p><p>“No, no, no Peter be reasonable here,” Wade shot up, causing another sharp pain to shoot through his injured leg. He groaned in pain, yet refused to give up. He’d drag himself till his leg fell off before he’d let himself get eaten because a <em>twink</em> drove off and left him for dead. However, as Wade dragged himself through the mud, he was pleasantly surprised when his beloved Betta was parked before him.</p><p>“You owe me,” Peter mumbled as he threw the door open, waiting for Wade to crawl in. The biggest smile Wade could muster was plastered on his face; the last piece of hot ass <em>didn’t</em> leave him to die as zombie-food! He’d never been this happy before.</p><p>[ Happier than Chimichanga Tuesday? ]</p><p>[[ Happier than Femboy Friday? ]]</p><p>“Happier than Chimichanga serving femboys on a Friday afternoon,” Wade sighed contently, earning him a judgmental look from the young man behind the wheel. “You can’t afford to judge me when you’re rocking that dishevelled nerdy pornstar look.”</p><p>The glare in Peter’s eyes spoke more than a thousand words; one more insult and Wade would be back living as bait.</p><p>Before he allowed that to happen, he grabbed a few bandages from the back of his car and tweezers from his pocket. He tore the hole in his pants wider and started prodding inside his wound, trying to find the lodged bullet. After a few painful attempts, fierce lip biting and colourful cursing, he managed to locate the intruding piece of metal and flung it outside the window.</p><p>His leg was a mess, his hands were a mess; the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. He reached for the flask of alcohol- however, he had left it behind when taking care of the bastard that shot him.</p><p>He groaned in annoyance and reluctantly bound the wound without anything to clean it with. The consequences would be a pain in the arse- the wrong kind of pain, for sure. He took off his shirt and wiped off the blood where he could. He hoped that Peter would take a peek, but the boy was either way too focused on the road, or completely ignoring Wade’s existence after the previous incident.</p><p>“I didn’t know you were injured,” Peter said, shaking Wade out of his thoughts. He glanced over to the younger boy, and noticed that his frown had softened. “I almost left an injured man to die,” he said, though his words were quieter than a whisper.</p><p>So, it was guilt that made Peter turn around. Not because he thought Wade was worth saving.</p><p>[[ What’s new? ]]</p><p>“Don’t worry your pretty little head, tis but a scratch.”</p><p>“Really, a Monty Python reference?”</p><p>“Your ears only deserve the best of references,” Wade shrugged.</p><p>The chuckle that reached Wade’s ears made his heart skip a beat, the same way whenever he thought of Robert Pattinson in his favourite movies. What he wouldn’t give to be Bella Swan for a day.</p><p>“Seems like you warmed up to good ol’ Wade,” Wade said proudly, folding his arms up with his chin held high as he basked in the feeling of accomplishment that he had managed to break the Peter’s tough-boy façade. May Monty Python forever be remembered as he who made the cute nerd laugh.</p><p>“In your dreams,” Peter huffed, “I still haven’t forgiven you for threatening two of the last survivors.”</p><p>“In my defence, those two innocents fired at me first,” Wade mumbled, shifting his gaze to the outside world instead. He was mesmerized by the countless of dead bodies decorating the streets of Missouri. It’s not as if he hadn’t already gotten familiarized with the sight, but the longer he stared, the more realization dawned on him that this whole zombie apocalypse scenario <em>wasn’t </em>just playing in his head.</p><p>“<em>Fuck!</em>” Peter screamed, slamming his heel onto the brakes, resulting in Wade’s face crashing against the top of the glove box, nearly triggering the airbag. Disregarding the fresh blood trickling down his nose, he looked up from Peter’s trembling hands. The boy’s eyes were widened in fear, though what could <em>possibly</em> trigger a reaction like this when he had nearly seen the worst already?</p><p>His questions were answered as the truck’s door flung open and he was forcefully dragged out of the vehicle. Despite his best efforts to try and wring himself out of the person’s fierce grip, he was met with failure.</p><p>“Strip ‘em clean,” a stern, hoarse voice ordered. Many intrusive hands were instantly on Wade and Peter, removing <em>everything</em> except for their shoes, socks, pants and shirts. Even Wade’s favourite custom-made Hello Kitty jacket was ripped off of his body.</p><p>“Usually there’s a romantic dinner before you strip me bare,” Wade scoffed, earning him a solid punch to his stomach. He doubled over in pain, yet refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing a single sound escape his lips.</p><p>Wade’s hands tied behind his back in the blink of an eye, as well as Peter’s, who had been too quiet to his liking. As he glanced over at the boy, he noticed an all too familiar face holding a knife to his throat.</p><p>“You bastard,” Wade snarled, an inhumane sound escaping his throat as he recognized the wimp from earlier. He said he’d been alone; the fucker was with an entire <em>group</em>. And of course, Peter’s morals wouldn’t let him run over the exact people who tried to kill Wade earlier.</p><p>[ Should’ve ripped them apart when you had the chance. ]</p><p>[[ Isn’t is admirable how many mistakes a man can make in such a short period of time? ]]</p><p>“How’s it feel?” Flash spoke up, waltzing with newfound pride towards Wade. “How’s it feel to not be in control of the situation anymore? To have your life in someone else’s hands?”</p><p>If he could just wrap his hands around the wimp’s throat and <em>squeeze</em>, just to satisfy his thirst of revenge, that would make this situation so much more worthwhile. Instead, he spat in the boy’s face and smirked, earning not him, but <em>Peter</em> a punch to the face.</p><p>“Wait a second,” Wade nearly stuttered over his words as Peter’s lip was busted for no good reason. “That punch belonged to me, I deserved that!”</p><p>“We figured that the only way to get through to you was by harming your companion instead,” Flash shrugged nonchalantly.</p><p>Wade nearly laughed in disbelief. Had they found his newly-acquired weak spot this soon? Had they realized he cared more about his companion then he let on, before he had? Since <em>when</em> did he care about Peter enough to not spit at Flash’s spit-able face again out of spite?</p><p>[ Since the moment you saw his ass. ]</p><p>“Now, what to do with you two?” Flash sighed, tapping his chin in thought as he switched glances between his two captives. His gaze lingered on Peter, he frowned and took a few steps closer, inspecting the boy’s features as his expression morphed into one of surprise.</p><p>As Peter stared right back, his jaw dropped simultaneously with Flash’s.</p><p>“Parker?”</p><p>“Flash?”</p><p>There was an unnerving silence as the two slowly realized they were more acquainted with each other than expected. They hadn’t seen each other since high school- they both changed enough for both of them not to instantly recognize one another.</p><p>Parker partially blamed his tendency to block out negative memories from his mind, especially the ones with Flash making a living hell out of his high school years. He was wise to keep his mouth shut, considering their current predicament.</p><p>Flash however never bothered to think about the boy he used torment. Though, he was flabbergasted he’d see the nerd from years ago right in front of him.</p><p>“Is this some kind of lover’s reunion? Don’t tell me I’ve been hitting on a taken man,” Wade shivered as the image of Parker and Flash together intruded his mind. If his suspicions were correct, then the hopes he had of Peter forgiving him were pretty much non-existent.</p><p>Surprisingly, neither he nor Peter got injured after Wade’s untimely remark.</p><p>“Untie him,” Flash said, and the man of Peter’s left cut through the ropes to set him free. His wrists felt sore, but he was in no position to complain.</p><p>Wade felt the need to butt in and ask for his freedom as well, but his guts were telling him it’d be pointless.</p><p>“We have to catch up! You used to be so bony, how did you ever survive out there?” Flash swung an arm around Peter’s shoulders and slowly directed the boy into the supermarket in front of them. Wade hadn’t noticed it before, as he was too focused on what the fuck was actually going on in front of him.</p><p>A baseball bat hit him in the back of his knees the moment he was distracted as the wimp guided Peter further away from him. As he fell, he struggled to not let his face collide int the bloodied pavement. As expected, he wouldn’t receive the same treatment as Peter.</p><p>He felt the blood soak into his pants, though he worried more about what they discussing inside the building. He trusted Peter enough to not screw up his words that would lead into a bullet through his head, but Wade worried nonetheless. </p><p>“So,” Wade said, breaking the silence. The pairs of eyes glaring daggers at him made him feel at home. “What brings you people to Missouri? I’m pretty sure the latest radio broadcast mentioned Alaska was your best bet at survival.”</p><p>Which wasn’t a lie. Approximately a year ago, they finished their newest means of survival just east of Teller. Due to the low population, the number of infected hadn’t been much of a problem. With the little time and forces they had; they build a survival facility. Whether it was still occupied by the living was something Wade wasn’t sure of. One infected would be enough to destroy everything they worked for if not being dealt with wisely.</p><p>“Oscorp owns the place now, they won’t let anyone in nowadays. Said the only spots left were reserved for doctors, teachers and the like.”</p><p>Leave it to Norman to create a facility to protect people, only to lock them out because he deemed them not good enough for his protection.</p><p>“Heard his son got out though, probably couldn’t stand his dad’s selfishness anymore.”</p><p>Well, that makes <em>one</em> Osborn with some intelligence; if he somehow managed to survive on his own, that is. Considering the young Osborn was probably fed with a golden spoon, he might have some trouble taking care of himself where every wrong turn might result in your brains becoming zombie-breakfast.</p><p>“They sure are taking their time in there, aren’t they?” Wade mumbled, causing some of them to follow his gaze to the supermarket. As they were distracted, Wade fumbled with the ropes binding him and discovered that someone hadn’t indulged themselves in the art of tying knots; he freed himself in the matter of seconds.</p><p>Now that was taken care of, he only had to find a way to obtain his weapon once more, murder everyone quick and quietly, and save his maiden in distress without having him freak out over the slaughtered men outside.</p><p>Knowing him, one of these things <em>will</em> go terribly wrong, and he hoped it wouldn’t attract more unwanted attention.</p>
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